


Otherworldly Observations

by Bonesboy15



Series: United We Stand [2]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Easter Eggs, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Guest Stars, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Marvel References, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonesboy15/pseuds/Bonesboy15
Summary: Originating from another world and nearly a century of life under their “belt”, Prowl’s perspective gets some highlighting. Insight to unity with a kit Wilde, throw away mentions slightly expanded upon, a love of chocolate, and a deeper understanding of life than expected.
Relationships: Nick Wilde & Original Character(s)
Series: United We Stand [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546330
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	Otherworldly Observations

* * *

In the still of the night, a small figure snuck through the door of an apartment home, all while the city mocked him with its presence. His muzzle pressed together, muffling furious pants that threatened to escape it. An ear pressed to the wood, and a silent beat passed. Relieved, the small mammal slumped down and looked down at the object clutched in his paws. There he saw a video tape nearly as large as his head. 

Freely panting, he toddled into the sitting room and flicked on the television. An otter wearing a small headset was showing off a new cleaning rag that could remove dirt from any surface.

**_Too loud!!_ **The hiss came from everywhere and nowhere at once. Directly into his eardrum. He quickly turned it down, ears folding back.

“Sorry.”

**_Put it in! Hurry!_ **

“I’m going as fast as I can. Geez…”

After winning the battle against the cheaper than cheap VCR, he sat down and watched the rainbow riddled test reel. A disclaimer popped onto the screen shortly afterwards.

_M.B.I. Property_

_Case File: QWER-TY12-WH55_

_Lead Agent: (Classified)_

_Footage taken from recording of_ “Songs of The Sfenghali”. _Voice of Dr. David Antlerburrough narrating._

The screen cut to a fine-dressed boar standing with a business-dressed sow that wore a regal necklace. Behind them was a sign: _Swinton Incorporated: Prey for the Future_. A three fingered hoof popped up in front of the camera, thumb pointed up.

_“Rolling!”_

_“Great, Charley.”_ The sow smiled and turned to the boar. _“Ok, remember dear, this is just for the documentary.”_

The boar snorted and began to protest the footage. A debate about business and covering tails started between the two. It utterly enraptured the little tod, who sought such lifestyles of success and greatness, but his accomplice was...less interested.

**_Fast forward._ ** His ear flicked but he didn’t respond. The growl came again, with a more insistent nudge that nearly knocked the kit over. **_Fast forward!!_ **

“Okay, okay, calm down!” 

He stopped fast forwarding when an elk wearing a lab coat walked into the shot, in his hooves was a jar that had a squirmy black liquid inside. The tod winced when the Other spoke again.

**_Pause it!_ ** The tod did so. He gulped and shivered, tail tucking between his legs as a large canid head emerged from his shoulder. The milky eyes glared at the screen, focused on the elk. **_Victor..._ **

“What are you doing?!” The tod hissed when he saw the head’s tongue lick its chops. The large head turned to him, eyes narrow and its grin wide.

**_Planning Our next meal. How do you feel about Venison?_ **

The tod shook his head and closed his eyes. He felt the large head press against him.

**_Come on...it’s so-o-o tasty. Juicy and thick. Full of deliciousness—_ **

“I-I don’t eat meat. I _won’t_ eat meat!”

The head shoved him from the screen and knocked him to the floor. It snarled and hovered over his body, thin oily strands connecting to the back of his neck. Green eyes snapped open and his breath caught when he saw the large fangs of the Other hover over his chest.

**_Then I will gorge on you. First your kidneys, and maybe then your stomach. Then perhaps your... lungs. And after that…I will eat your heart!_ **

Then all he knew was darkness.

* * *

Prowl chuckled when the young tod fainted. They were impressed. The kit was far more resilient to their induced anesthesia than most hosts were. A sign that they had chosen correctly this time. Still, what was to come was best kept from their host, for now. A few more tweaks in his brain’s chemicals and they ensured that the kit would be well-rested by the next day. They glared at the television once more before resumed fast forwarding to when the documentary started. 

“ _Life._ ” Proper, gentlemammally, composed, and eloquent were words that Prowl considered when they put a voice to the elderly buck that had been speaking while he was prodded and poked. The camera pulled back from its poorly rendered close up of Prowl’s cellular structure. “ _The mystery with no solution, the answer without a question. What started it? What was the purpose for it? Is there a purpose for it? Philosophers and scientists struggled with answering questions such as these for decades._ ”

**_Waste of time._ ** Prowl mused. Their grin widened when they witnessed their captive self devour the half-eaten carcass of a tuna.

“ _Unlike most sentient species’ philosophers, this-this alien organism, which we have dubbed Svengali doesn’t like thinking about such questions. Or of putting a meaning to the word. They saw the matter inconsequential, for they saw it as their status: Life. Existing. The word that fascinated the Svengali’s philosophers—few though there are—was survival._ ”

**_Few though there_ ** **were** ** _._ ** Prowl scoffed. Then they furrowed their brow, one particular word was unfamiliar to them. **_What the hell is a Svengali?_ **

“ _Prolonging life. Protecting life. Of oneself. Of another. Survival was selfish and selfless. It was the creed of the Svengali, a word they knew even before they’d chosen what to call themselves. A universal demand, written into their very complex genetic code: Survive, at all costs. So they did._ ”

Antlerburrough narrated as archived footage of creatures similar to Prowl flickered on the screen. Some acted as Prowl did, eating mammals, birds, and reptiles alike. One particular creature—with a serrated jawline and blood red fur—pounced on a web swinging swine-shaped hero in red and blue tights. Prowl cocked their head during that fight, unsure if it was a relative of theirs or not. 

“ _Evolution_ ,” Antlerburrough continued. Footage of this world’s largest snail crawling past the old buck showed on the screen. The buck let the creature crawl up his hoof and admired it as he spoke. “ _Saw them revert from snail-like organisms into organic masses of “goo.” The proto-Svengali, having abandoned their shells that their predators managed to crack, often hid in small crevasses where only the tiniest creatures could live. It was in these crevasses that, like all life forms, the Svengali discovered they could be infected by disease._ ”

Prowl arched a brow. Searching their genetic code—a task far too complex to be simplified or explained further without being like them to understand—they found that yes, Antlerburrough was correct. Intrigued, they watched as a crude computer generated animation started. 

“ _Whereas most sentients in our world_ _learned to identify, treat, and (occasionally) fear the microorganisms that assaulted their complex biology, the Svengali chose a different path. They assimilated their attackers, and learned of a new way to survive. Their genetic rewrite cost them their autonomy. It was not a major loss, but the Svengali were now and forever a parasitic organism._ ”

**_We are_ ** **not** **_a parasite!_ ** Prowl snarled, nearly lunging at the television. They hated that word. What it meant. Their first host called them such exclusively unto their dying breath. Insult aside, they learned to savor things from that host. For that, they ensured the First’s death was _slow_.

“ _That, on its own, is terrifying, but the Svengali were not done developing yet. They learned that though they were separate bodies, they could reach their brethren by method of psionic link._ ”

**_Rut that._ ** Prowl shook their manifested head in disgust. It became too noisy when that particular link was open. Thinking was hard and directing the host became even more difficult than it already was. Not to mention there was that damnable Ringing noise. They blocked the memories with a growl and focused on the television again.

“ _That link was capable of spanning planets, and further still, allowed for intellectual growth. Intelligence, the Svengali had discerned, was a useful tool for survival; as were superior numbers. This made solitude a rather unfavorable approach, and thus, most Svengali remained linked to their kin._ ”

**_Not_ ** **this** **_“Svengali”_** , Prowl scoffed. They really needed to figure out what that word meant. And how Swinton learned so much about them and their species.

_“It was here that The Svengali’s hive-mind, The Progenitor, was born. It would be generations until they decided they’d learned all they could from the world they lived on._ ”

**_This is useless..._ ** Prowl grumbled. They used the remote to fast forward further. **_Come on show Us what we want to—aha!_ **

There was footage of Prowl, hosted at the time by a Peak named Edmund Kough, fending off Peacekeepers. They studied their bodies’ differences, the hunched torso, elongated neck and the larger jaws was far more intimidating than the slender canidae body they had now. Prowl frowned and pushed their nose against the screen, soft chirps melded with a low whine as they reflected on the image.

Edmund was a good host. He was a hyena, the first pack mammal Prowl had been attached to—most of his previous hosts had been solitary predators, feline or reptilian, that had issues with society—and was a Peacekeeper to boot. Their unity formed after Edmund had stopped their last host from trying to kill herself—To be fair, it was a poor match made in desperation. She was a mentally unstable caracal, a survivor of one of their blood-spilling indulgences during the early years of The Fracture. Not Prowl’s best decision, but it brought them to Edmund, so they didn’t think of it as a mistake.

The Moderate Peak rarely called upon Prowl to help, preferring his own training over the augmented abilities that they promised. It was infuriating at first, a fury driven by confusion that mingled with hunger. The lack of assisting meant that there was little need to feed. Still, Prowl only required to feed off of Edmund’s spleen biweekly. The routine started to become comfortable. It was their first experience with peace and, to be honest, it really tempered their tendency to “rage/eat first, talk later.” It was, for lack of a better word, perfect.

Then Edmund’s sister went missing.

Prowl rested their forehead against the screen and let out a louder chirping whine. The vocal cue reverberated through their being, and through the kit they had attached to. They couldn’t help it: Prowl missed Edmund. They were safe and happy and well fed with Edmund, even if they were bored most of the time.

**_If it weren’t for Bogo…_ ** Thinking about the Cape Buffalo would stir them into a frenzy, so Prowl shook it off. They missed their old host, but they survived.

“Nicky?” A light switched on in the next room. Prowl whipped around when the door cracked. With a last glance at their Edmund-covered form, they slapped a button on the VCR. The screen shifted back to the sales-otter, now attempting to sell a tub of powder. Silently, they slipped back into their newest host, watched and waited.

Robyn Wilde, a vixen barely into her thirties, was clad in a robe that was just a size too large, requiring one of her paws to hold it shut. She looked as what Prowl assumed their host would, if their host was a female, matured a few decades, and wrung out by the cruelty of society.

**_Well, We can cross that last one off of the list,_ ** Prowl mused, thinking of the night they met their newest host. Finding a scorned and bullied kit while struggling against the failing systems of the random crackhead they’d used to escape the Wrong One was like a gift from the universe. That night had been nary a week ago and the foggy haze that the Wrong One had left them in had finally worn off. It had taken some persuasion, but Prowl managed to get the new host to help them obtain this tape.

“Oh, Nicky...” Paws softly padded across the floor and two thin arms plucked the sleeping kit from where he lay. A warm sensation wrapped around them, and with it was a tight grip. Concerned by the heat’s proximity and the firm hold, Prowl readied to attack the threat to their newest host. A soft humming belayed their strike, and the light rumble that shook through their host filled them with a wave of euphoria.

**_This is..._ ** Their proverbial eyes felt heavy. The feeling of safety overwhelmed them. Their guard dropped as the television was turned off. Before slumber stole their consciousness, a lone thought rattled their mind. **_Nicholas Wilde, you are turning out to be a very interesting host..._ **

For little did they know, but it was the first time in their very long life, Prowl had finally been able to get a taste of what mammals called “love”.


End file.
